It Takes Two of Them, Apparently
by Kayin
Summary: What is a Shopkeep supposed to do when the resident Magician won't stay in town? When the Countess of Vesuvia requires her aid, and she has no magical talent? Improvise! Then make a mess of things, as she always does.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: It's been about 7 years since I've written or posted anything online, so please be gentle. This is another "re-telling" of the Arcana story (of course we need more of those!) Hope you like it, I've put my own twists into it. It shouldn't follow along with any of the character's routes after the prologue, so look forward to that, I think. Rated MA for cursing, blood, violence, sexual innuendo and whatever else I throw in later.

Chapter One

"Asra! Damn it," I curse and glare down at the packed travel bag sitting on the bed, scarf and feathered hat sitting next to it. "You eel licking donkey's ass." I mumble. What was the point in owning a magic shop if the only one with magic ability is gone half the time? People don't come to the shop just for ingredients and trinkets, they come for readings and have items magicked. I hate turning good money away because the house magician is a flake.

I pout to myself and clomp noisily down the steps to the shop proper. Begrudgingly, I begin laying out items like trinkets and potions that need some hocus pocus done on them, trying my best to lay out a variety. If I had known he was going to skip town so damn soon I would have had more for him to enchant. I need more time than just a week to stock up, and who knows how long he'll be gone this time. I groan and dramatically throw myself bodily onto the counter, draping my limbs so they swing on either side.

"You're killing me, Asra!" I lament.

A quick glance out the window tells me evening is fast approaching, and I mentally calculate the moon phase for tonight. I roll my eyes. New moon. He _always _likes to leave during a new moon. I get back to work setting out the items.

The clock on the wall next to the shop's door chimes 5 times and I make a mad dash to lock the door and flip the sign from "open" to "closed." Quickly, I scrawl out the magic circles Asra will need on some paper, taking just enough care to be sure they have all the proper sigils and symbols. While I might not technically _do_ magic, doesn't mean I don't understand the _theory_ of magic. You can't live with a magician and sell magic items and not pick up some of it. It's hard not to be enthralled by Asra's enthusiasm when he comes home with a new magic tome or scroll. I can remember many a time sitting at the kitchen table for hours watching him practice a new spell, never missing the chance to snicker when he failed, or be in awe when he was triumphant.

It's not like I can't do _some _magic. Even little kids can do easy stuff with a magic circle. I can operate the locking runes outside the shop door, for instance. It's just I have no aptitude for it. And honestly it suits me just fine, I don't mind helping Asra get his spells set up but I'd rather spend my time reading medical papers and invention patents and the like that come from Prakra.

I currently have an experiment brewing in the back room, inspired by the most recent medical journal about mold. Apparently there is a certain type of mold from common household fruits that has a medicinal benefit. If I can replicate this process and perfect it, maybe we can sell more than just dried newt and toad tongues. We could provide _medicine._ Magic is fine and dandy for your average cut, broken bone, even burns, but sickness is a different story. After the devastation of the Red Plague, it's time for more than just tonics and leeches. At least it's worth a try.

I stack up the circles next to the trinkets on the counter. The sun is starting to shine through the stained glass window in the reading room, splaying a multitude of colors across the shop. I smell the scent of pumpkin bread wafting through the open window just before I hear the door unlock and open. I prepare my glare, with hands on hips when the puff of white curly hair peeks around the door.

Guarded lavender eyes scan over me and the counter in front of me. A sheepish smile spreading across caramel skin, exposing white teeth framed with lush lips and dimples on each cheek. Asra slides his lithe form through the door, holding out the pumpkin bread, almost as a shield.

"I see you found my bag." Asra says with mirth, looking over the counter at the myriad of magic supplies. I intensify my glare.

"I see you intend on placating my ire with a trip to the bakers." I retort.

His face alights and he gives a hearty laugh. "I dare not show my face without a peace offering."

I look down at my favorite bread, but I look at him unimpressed.

"Ah ah," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a small bag of what looks like leaves. "I _also_ visited the tea shop."

I give him a haughty look and walk around the counter to him. I look between the two items, and sigh. "_Fine._ Peace offering accepted." I pluck the items from his hands. "But you're on your own for dinner. I'm not canceling my plans just because you've decided to skip town again."

He reaches out, grabs my face and gives each cheek a quick kiss. "I don't intend on leaving until well past dark anyway. Enjoy your evening with Saffron."

I flush slightly and mumble, "You better not leave before I come back. _Or _before we're restocked." I pointedly look at the counter.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies easily, making his way to the stairs. "Where are you going tonight?"

I follow him to the stairs intent on putting the bread and tea in the kitchen. "I think they were wanting to go to the Rowdy Raven tonight."

"The Rowdy Raven?" He gives me a questionable look over his shoulder as we climb the stairs. "You sure that's a good idea?"

I roll my eyes. "What, just because Saffron brought me home tipsy _one time-"_

He quirks an eyebrow, "I don't think coming home slung over Saffron's shoulder, one shoe missing and a black eye can qualify as _tipsy."_

"Pfft," I wave his concern away and tuck my treasured peace offering into the cupboard. "I've learned to handle my liquor since then."

"Let's hope so," he walks into our bedroom. I stick my tongue out at him as he disappears into the room. "I saw that."

"Of course you did," I mumble, "you have like a third eye on the back of your head." I follow him into the room, making my way to my dresser to change. Our room is small, but cozy, our things strewn about messily on dressers and window sills.

He lays on the bed, propped up by some pillows and closes his eyes with a sigh. "I think I'll get a little rest before leaving."

"Just don't drool on my pillow." I warn.

He opens an eye to look at me, "No promises."

I toss my dirty shirt at his face and he laughs as he bats it away. I finish dressing and head back downstairs.

"Have fun!" He yells after me, immediately followed by a yawn.

"Without a doubt!" I yell back, leaving the shop and locking up.

Vesuvia is bustling with the evening rush of daily life. The canals that the city is renowned for are packed with boats large and small, from the cargo rafts full of items for export, to the small gondolas used for personal transport. The setting sun shines brightly through the tall buildings, reflecting off the water with beautiful pinks and oranges. It makes me squint as I make my way west towards South End, keeping an eye out for an available gondola. I doubt I'll get one at this time of day, but sometimes one gets lucky.

The streets on either side of the canals are lined with people going about their business, and I weave around them lazily. I hope Saffron isn't planning on just drinking our dinner. I won't make it all night without something substantial in my stomach. And when Saffron drinks, Saffron _drinks_. They know how to hold their liquor, with lots of practice from their sailing days. Every night drinking with them always ends in disaster for me. If only Asra knew how regular being slung over Saffron's shoulder and deposited in the shop really was, maybe he'd stick around for longer than a few days. I wince at the thought. Nah, maybe it's better Asra isn't around for most of those drunken nights.

The sun is sinking behind the large lemonstone aqueduct as I round the corner into a dark alleyway. The street lamps haven't been lit yet, but I can make out the wooden sign about halfway down the street. I head down towards the tavern door when something large and black swoops down around my head and makes me shriek. I duck and curse and throw myself against the building wall staring wildly up at the thing now perching on The Rowdy Raven's sign.

"I'll be damned," I mumble to myself. Shock setting in over the surprise. "Is that a raven?" I've never seen a raven in person before. It's huge! I approach cautiously, and it looks down at me with black beady eyes. It's beautiful, all black and shiny-

It squawks loudly with wings out and I jump, jolted from my thoughts. I glare at it, "Alright, alright, asshole, I'm going." I saunter into the Rowdy Raven and I could swear I hear the raven laughing at me as the door closes.

"Barth!" I call taking in the low orange glow of the taverns ambiance, the low murmur of too many voices, too many conversations to be able to understand any one thing. The smell of booze thick in the air already, but there's a hint of something else, beef maybe perhaps in a stew, that makes my mouth water.

Barth, in all his large hairy glory, looks over at me from talking to a patron, who I now recognize as none other than my partner in crime, Saffron, and cracks a smile.

"Barth!" I cry out again walking towards the two, "You're not gonna believe it, there's a bloody _raven_ outside on your sign! Nearly took my damn head off!"

Saffron bursts out into a deep throaty laughter and I shoot them a look. Their light blue shoulder length curls bouncing in their mirth, glowing slightly green from the orange glow of the candelabra above us.

"I see you've met Malak." Barth's booming voice says, reaching under the counter to grab me a glass. I sit next to Saffron shoving them with my shoulder as I get comfortable, they elbow me back.

"Malak?" I ask, nodding to Barth's unspoken question as he hovers the glass under a keg of mead.

"Mhm, seems he's been hanging around town for the last week or so." Saffron chimes in. "He's a pretty good lookout from what I hear."

"He's been doing a great job, saved us all from a raid just two days ago!" Old Linus says from the other end of the bar.

"What the hell are you getting into that you need to avoid the guards?" I look at him skeptically.

He gives me a single tooth grin. I roll my eyes.

"Anyway," Barth hands me my glass, "he won't hurt you, all bark, no bite so to speak."

"Yeah right," Saffron scoffs, "I'll wring his scrawny neck if he tries to shit on me again."

My laughter is wild, loud and deep. The type of belly laugh that leaves your abs aching, and tears streaming from your eyes. Saffron glowers at me, prolonging my laughter. I raise my glass and manage to choke out "To Malak!"

"To Malak!" Other patrons cry from across the tavern, joining me in my toast.

"Are you done?" Saffron grumbles at me, and I dramatically wipe a tear from my eye. They click their tongue at me, and make their way over to a booth to sit.

I grin as I turn back to Barth, "What is that divine smell?"

"Beef bourguignon."

"Beef whatchamawhosits?"

Barth laughs, "It's fancy talk for beef stew. Want some?"

"Absolutely." My stomach gives a large growl of affirmative. I smile sheepishly.

"I'll send you some out when it's done."

I slap the counter twice and head over to Saffron, who's taking a long pull from their stein.

"Whoa, Saffron, slow down-the night is young!" I plop myself in the booth across from them. They eye me over the lip of their glass and take another swallow out of defiance.

"No Asra? Does he have no interest in the things you do outside the shop?" Saffron starts in on me.

Ugh, not this again. "Hey, I'm allowed to do my own things you know."

They grumble as they scratch at the stubble growing on their cheek. "You live together, run a shop together, sleep in the same _bed_ together but he has no interest in doing the things you want? It's always him dropping in, doing some hocus pocus, then leaving you to run everything."

"_Saffron,_" I whine. "We've been over this. My relationship with Asra is _complicated."_

"Complicated." They look at me deadpan.

"Yes. Exactly." I take a drink.

"There's nothing complicated about being taken for a ride and left to dry. To put up with that kind of behavior, his dicking had better be top notch."

I nearly spit my mead all over their immaculate makeup. "_What?_" It comes out more of a squeak than I intend. I shake my head furiously, blushing from top to bottom.

"Tch, don't play dumb, you heard me." They point a large meaty finger at me, purple nail polish glinting in the candlelight, filed tip slightly menacing. "Don't let that man walk all over you, honey. He makes you cry, I'll kick his scrawny caramel ass."

I want to die. This is so embarrassing. I drop my head to the table and groan. I'm just going to have to spell it out for them. Dodging the subject like usual is just making them think the worst. "Asra and I-it's not what you think."

"Sure honey, and the sky isn't blue."

"_Saffron,_" I whine again, lifting my head. "I'm serious. We've-we've never…" I feel like my face is on fire.

"Huh-uh. No. _No." _They say waving a hand at me. "Don't you even say you've never had a little slap and tickle with that man." They slam their hands on the table making me jump. "Honey what is _wrong _with you? What is wrong with _him_?"

I stare at them, mouth agape. What do I say? How can I explain it? Saffron knows about my amnesia, how I don't remember anything before 3 years ago, but how do I explain how bad it really was? How I was basically a invalid, a newborn baby, unable to even feed myself or walk? How I had to relearn _everything_, and how Asra had to be patient and teach me?

...how could a man be attracted to a person they had to basically raise? I know he loves me, but it's more of a brotherly caring love than a romantic love.

Large warm hands rest on my cheeks and I'm brought back to the present. Saffron smiles warmly at me, rubbing their thumbs along my cheek bones. "I'm sorry Marion. I know it's complicated. I'm just worried about you."

I smile, but it doesn't quite feel right. "I know you do. Thank you. But, really, everything is fine. Let's just have fun tonight, okay?"

"Okay." They smile back. We toast each other and take long drawls from our steins.

I'm giggling. I know I'm giggling too much but I can't stop the noise from escaping my lips. I see the ground above me-below me? Swaying back and forth, cobblestones sliding past my blurred vision. My cheek somewhat rests on a firm pillowy type thing, bouncing slightly with each rocking movement.

"Sssaaaaaffrooooooon~" I can hear myself half sing their name. "Saffron got that bouncy booty~" I bounce my cheek off the pillow-booty and I hear their melodic laughter. I lift my hanging arms and slap my hands on their rump, drumming along to an imaginary tune. I giggle some more. "Saffron, Saffron! Can you believe I won? I won! I don't think I've ever won anything before."

"Who knew you'd be a savant at darts?" Saffron encourages me.

"Seriously!" I exclaim. "Whose bright idea was it to give me sharp objects to throw while plastered?!" I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded sheet of paper that spelled out my victory. It was some kind of wanted poster, with a crude drawing of a menacing looking man with a big pointed nose and wavy hair. Several holes where dotted along the face of the poster and I bring it to my eye to peek through a hole.

Saffron snorts. "Yeah we're lucky no one lost an eye."

"Speak for yourself!" I exclaim waving the poster around. "Mister wanted man had both eyes taken out!" We both laugh hysterically.

The forward momentum stops suddenly, and I look up to be face to face with the shop's door. "Get those magic fingers working Marion," Saffron levers my legs down and my upper torso is lifted into the air so I can see the door better.

"Aye-aye!" I slap my hair away from my eyes and put the poster between my teeth so I have both hands free to work the locking magicks. I open the door and my head is slammed into the door frame as Saffron turns to enter. "Oof!" Saffron loses balance and we tumble into the shop with a loud bang and boisterous laughter.

"What the hell?" I hear Asra say, but I'm laughing too hard to care, I sprawl my limbs out on the wood floor and try to keep everything from spinning while the laughter dies away. "Well, I see you two had fun." A candle is lit and the room becomes slightly more visible. Something cold and soft slithers up to my face and red eyes look down at me from a heart shaped head.

"Drunk." Faust says as she curls up near my face. I nod and giggle.

"Asra," Saffron sits up, my stomach churns watching them complete the action. "You should have seen it! We had so much fun, we danced on tables, played darts-"

"I won!" I wave the poster around in the air above me.

"-we sang songs and ate great food-"

"The beef boujeenomnom was DELICIOUS!"

"The what?"

"Honey, it's bourguignon."

"...bergenmeown?"

A purple manicured hand grabs my jaw and moves my mouth for me. "BOR-GEN-NION." They say slowly. I begin to laugh again.

"_STEW, fancy STEW!_" I choke out. Whatever, it was delicious.

"Hey, Asra, what's with the bag?" Saffron says, mirth gone from their voice. The laughter dies in my throat.

"Oh, I'm heading out tonight. I was just waiting for 'I can handle my liquor' over here to get home before I left."

"You're _leaving_? But you just got back!" Uh-oh I know where this is going. I reach blindly out to grab anything of Saffron's before they can get up.

"I know, but there are some things I need to take care of-"

"You have a _shop_ and a-"

"_Saffron!_" I groan loudly, reaching up to cover their mouth.

"Oh shut up honey, if you won't say it then I will-"

"Saffron," Asra sighs, "I-you-we-it's, it's complicated."

Saffron tosses my hand to the side and stands up. I crane my neck to look at the two towering over me upside down. The room spins and tears swell into my vision.

"Complicated my _ass_ Asra, I won't let you take advantage of her like you are-"

"Taking advantage? I'm not doing anything of the sort, I-"

"You are too! You leave whenever you feel like, staying for only a short time, leaving all the responsibility to-"

"STOP!" I cry, they both look down at me with wild wide eyes, one lavender and one deep chocolate brown. "Stop it!" Tears are streaming down my temples now, tickling my ears. "Please, I love you both, so don't fight…" Faust gives my face a small nudge, tongue darting out to lick my tears.

"Oh honey," Saffron says, bending down to help me upright. Asra bends down too, and together they have me standing, Faust slithering onto Asras shoulder. "Let's get you to bed."

"But-" I sniffle.

"No buts." Asra says, and they lug me up the stairs and set me on the bed.

"Saffron," I mumble, "thanks for taking me out, and getting me home. I-I need to talk to Asra before he leaves." I look up at them, pleading silently.

"Of course honey, I'll come check up on you tomorrow." They give my forehead a kiss and turn to leave.

"Thank you," I whisper. The area next to me on the bed dips down and I look over at Asra, whose face is aflame with embarrassment.

He waits until he hears the door of the shop close before he turns to me. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"_Asra_," I lean my head on his chest, "Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be sorry for."

He embraces me, and I can feel his chest constrict with emotion. What the hell is happening? I'm too drunk for all of this. Damn Saffron and their drinking and their over protective nature. Damn it all.

"Yes, there is so much to be sorry for." He murmurs into my hair. What? I start to pull away but he keeps me where I am. "I can't explain it to you, at least, not yet. But I can't stay-it's too hard to stay for long. It hurts too much."

I panic, "I'm not hurting you am I?" I can feel my chest tighten and my head swim.

He gives a choked half sob half laugh. "No, no. You're not hurting me. You're doing nothing wrong." He leans back and grabs my face in his hands, I meet his lavender eyes with my own. "I'll explain when you're stronger. When you're… not drunk." I give a choked laugh myself. "But for now, I need to leave. I promise though, I'll explain everything. I just need...time." I nod, and he wipes away a stray tear from my face.

"In the meantime," he grabs something from his bag at his side and I see it's his tarot deck. "I'd like for you to keep these for me." My back goes rigid with alarm. "Ha, I don't expect you to use them. Think of them more as insurance, to collect on my promise." He smiles at me with warmth. I nod again and take the cards reverently. "Actually," he takes the deck from me and sets it on the side table. "Let's just keep them here until you're sober." He winks at me, I smile. He looks out the window across the room and sighs.

"I guess it's time to go?" I ask. He nods. "I'll miss you." I mumble.

"I'll miss you too, Marion," he leans in and gives me a chaste kiss on the mouth. "Get some rest." He gets up to leave.

"Rest." Faust says in her raspy voice. "Rest good."

"Okay," I lean back onto our pillows, breathing in his scent from his nap earlier. My body sinks into the bed with a sigh.

I jerk awake to the sound of someone banging on the shop door. What time is it? Is it morning? My head swims, I flail about trying to gain purchase while the rooms spins. Somehow I manage to get to my feet and stumble down the old stairs. The banging continues as I approach the door, each bang sending a pang of pain through my skull.

"Okay! Okay! I'm coming, damn, calm down." I unlock the door and swing it wide open, staggering a bit. The door assailant pushes past me, and I close the door behind them. "What in the-"

They impatiently unwrap the shawl from around their head, and I'm transfixed by ruby eyes as they give me an appraising look. "Forgive me for the hour… but I will not suffer another sleepless night."

Bloody. Hell. That's Countess Nadia Satrinava. She's in my shop, in the middle of the night, and I'm _drunk._ I am going to kick Saffron's ass. I do my best to sober up, but I still feel unsteady on my feet.

"It's… it's not a problem Countess." I try to say in my most 'I'm not drunk' voice as I can muster. "Please, what can I do for you?"

Her eyes widen and a small smirk graces her full lips. "Are you drunk?"

I sputter and teeter on my feet. Oh hell, she saw right through that. I give her a winning smile. "Off my ass my lady. I didn't know I'd have company tonight."

Her eyes shine with mirth for a moment then dull as she sighs. "I was hoping to get a reading tonight, but it seems that won't be an option."

I can feel the heat rise to my face. "I'm sorry Countess, but even if I was sober I couldn't do a reading. The house magician is away and I've not talent for it."

She looks over at me, her brows creasing in the middle of her forehead. "No, I've seen this in my dream. It has to be you, you have to do the reading."

I don't know what to say to that. I stare at her, mind reeling, head swimming. She's seeing me in her dreams? Whaaaaat? I'm too drunk for this.

The Countess continues to speak, "Hear my proposal then, magician. Come to the Palace tomorrow after you're sober. Give me a reading."

"Uh, I'm sorry Countess, I'm still confused on the dream part." I rub my head. She said sleepless nights, but she's also having dreams. Which is it? Or did I hear her wrong?

"When I sleep my dreams are haunted by visions of future possibilities. Scenarios playing out that bode ill."

"Well, if you're dreaming about me, no wonder you feel that way." I crack a smile.

She ignores me, "The future I saw, the one that led me to you… is one I will not allow to pass." The look in her eyes is menacing.

I gulp. Yeah, that does bode ill. "I'm sorry my lady. I'll do what I can to help stall this forseen future."

She looks relieved, her impeccable posture relaxes a bit. "Then you'll come to the Palace? You will be well compensated for your time, every luxury you could need will be provided. I only ask that you bring your skill, and the arcana."

Well, Asra did leave his deck with me. Was that a coincidence or did he know? "I… I don't see how I could possibly refuse you, my lady. The arcana I have, but the skill…" I wince. "I'll bring what I have."

She nods curtly. Despite my unease she seems placated for the time. "Come to the Palace gates tomorrow, the guards will be aware of your arrival." She rewraps her shawl around her head, and makes for the door.

"Wait!" I call out, and I stumble over behind the counter. If there isn't anything I can do now, the least I can do is make her night a bit easier until tomorrow. I rummage around the bottles on the shelf until I find what I'm looking for. "Here," I hold it out to her. "It's a sleep potion, enchanted by my master. I hope that it can help you get some rest."

She gingerly takes the bottle from my grasp and eyes it. "I've tried many sleep tonics, what makes you think yours will work?"

I shrug, "It can't hurt to try another can it?"

She tucks the bottle away into her dress. "I suppose not."

I stagger over to the door to hold it open for her as she exits. "May your dreams be pleasantly devoid of me." I smirk.

She glances at me with an amused expression, "Until tomorrow, magician." With practiced ease she slides out into the night, disappearing into the growing fog.

I slowly close the door and brace myself against it. What the hell was that? Ugh, I should have let Saffron kick Asra's ass. At least if he was injured he couldn't have traveled tonight and I wouldn't be standing at my shop door at who knows what time of night trying to decide if I just hallucinated the Countess asking me to come to the Palace in the morning. I shuffle over to the counter and grab a random sheet of paper. I need to write this down, if it's here in the morning then I'll know I didn't hallucinate and I'll know what to do. I scrawl on the paper with a piece of charcoal, "Go to Palace, Countess sleep deprived and insane." As an afterthought I scribble down "TAROT DECK" below it.

The world twists as I look up from the paper. I need to go back to bed. Halfway up the stairs I hear a tap-tap-tap on my upstairs window. What now? I wearily peek around the stair entrance to the window. There perched on the sill of the open window is a large black silhouette. I stare at it, my eyes not registering what it is.

It looks at me with beady eyes and turns it's head showing a long black beak. "Alright asshole." It says to me. I don't know whether to laugh or scream, so instead I stare dumbfounded. Are you kidding me? Malak followed me home? As if sensing I've recognized him, he gives a small chortle of laughter, opening his wings wide. What the hell, this whole night has been insane, why not have a talking raven on my window. I walk over to him and sit on the stool by the wardrobe. I'm half surprised he hasn't flown away yet.

"Hi Malak, come to warn me of the guards, hm?" He clacks his beak in response. I snort, "Would have been nice if you could have warned me about the Countess just a minute ago." I mumble. He reaches out and grabs a tuft of my hair and preens it. I give a hollow laugh. "Yeah I'm sure I look a fright." He responds with a low rumble in his throat.

"So this is the witch's lair," a deep voice murmurs behind me. My spine goes rigid, and Malak gives a unsurprised squawk. Slowly, I spin my head toward the voice as it continues to speak. "Then… who might _you_ be?" All I see is a towering dark shape in the shadows, a glint of white and a reflection of red.

Drunken instinct takes over and I grab the stool from under me, nearly falling during the motion and I throw the stool at the figure, lurching to get across the room and away from it.

"En garde then!" the voice says, knocking the stool away with a flourish of cape. Malak squawks again.

I grab one of Asra's magic crystals from a dresser and my eyes dart across the room trying to take aim. "Where the hell were you on that one, Malak?" I yell and seeing my target I launch the crystal across the room. There's a sickening crack as it hits it's mark, and a flash of white hits the floor. The figure wobbles on unsteady feet and I launch myself at it. In my drunken stupor and it's dazed moment of weakness we both tumble down the steep stairs and land in a heap on the shop floor. Malak is squawking like mad now, having flown into the shop and landing on the counter wings out.

The world is reeling around me, I moan trying to keep my head and not release the contents of my stomach. I get on all fours and peer over to the figure next to me, who's spread eagle on the floor, overcoat draped over their face.

"Malak, quiet down, I can't hear myself think," the voice says, and they try to untangle themselves from their overcoat. Malak makes an indignant squawk but quiets down nonetheless.

Yelping in fright I scurry on hands and knees over to the corner and grab the broom as the intruder extricates themselves from the coat and stands up. Now that I can see them better, it looks to be a man, all legs and arms, dressed in dark clothing. I stand unsteadily and brandish the broom in defense. The man adjusts something on his face, then wipes at the fountain of blood pouring from the side of his head. He gives me an appraising look, sneering down at me and my broom.

"That took some guts, seems I underestimated you." He smirks, but his bravado is broken by how hard he's breathing.

My heart feels like it stops dead in my chest. His face is familiar, sans the eyepatch. The broom in my hand shakes slightly and my eyes dart around the room to find the wanted poster I was brandishing with triumph earlier in the evening. I glance back and forth between the two faces and I swallow. _Fuck_, I am in no condition to fight off a damn criminal.

"Where's the witch?" He asks, crossing his arms. He's looking for Asra? Is that why he had to leave so soon after returning? Was he running from this man? I glare at him.

"What the hell do you want with Asra?" I growl, tightening my grip on the broom.

"Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to talk to him?" His reply is a bit sheepish.

I eye him. "No, I wouldn't. Not after breaking into my shop. Either way, he's not here and you won't find him."

"Is that so…" He says distracted. He walks over to the counter and picks up the wanted poster of himself. He holds it up, noticing the dart holes littering his face. "Hey wait a minute," he glances over the poster at me, looking me up and down, recognition lighting his face, suddenly he gives out a delighted laugh. "You're the one who won the dart tournament at the Raven!" He turns to Malak, "Look who it is Malak!"

"Alright asshole." Malak cries.

"I-erm-what?" The stranger asks. "Language Malak!" Malak laughs. The strangers face is aflame with embarrassment.

I look back and forth between the two dark uninvited figures in my shop. A headache is starting to sear behind my eyes. Suddenly he's talking again, chatting me up like he hasn't just broke into my shop, been bludgeoned by a crystal and tackled down a flight of stairs.

"That was some impressive dart throwing! You and your friend stole the whole night, with the table dancing and singing. It was fun to watch you have a ball. I would have joined you, if you know, I wasn't Vesuvia's most wanted." He says with mirth.

I lower the broom just a bit. What the hell is happening… Are we gonna fight or what? Why are we suddenly best friends? "You… were at the Raven-watching me throw darts at the face of your wanted poster?"

He grins roguishly at me. "Who do you think supplied the wanted posters?" He waggles his eyebrows.

My bark of laughter comes quick and alarming, and I have the use the broom to keep myself upright. He's at my side instantly, helping me to stay standing. I wince away from him but he just pats my arm reassuringly.

"You must be three sheets to the wind." He says absently and leads me over to the reading room to set me down in a chair. Malak gives an encouraging squawk.

With him this close to me, I can see all the blood that's marred his coat and face. "Sorry about the…" I gesture to this head. "I think anyway. You should know better than to sneak up on people, especially if you're only here to _talk._"

His blush is almost as red as the blood on his face. "Yes, well, I-erm, that is…" he coughs and releases my arm once he's sure I'm steady. "Don't worry about this," a flourish of a gloved hand to his face, "I've had worse." His expression becomes serious. "I don't know what your relationship with the witch is, and honestly he may even care about you… but a word of advice? Don't trust him."

I look at him dubiously. "Says the man who broke into my shop and roughed me up in the middle of the night."

"Erm… yes, I suppose this whole thing could have gone a bit better."

"If you really just want to talk… Next time, just come during the day?"

He points at his face. "Wanted man."

I bite my lip in thought. "Knock then…?"

He nods. "Just do yourself a favor, when your master comes back, seek me out. Don't be fooled by him."

"Let's say I take your advice, and I try to seek you out when he returns, how do I find you?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Ask for me by name at the Raven. Barth will know how to get in touch with me."

"And your name is…?"

With an exaggerated gesture he lays the wanted poster on the table, he gives me another grin and points to his face on the paper. "Name is on the poster, my dear."

Malak squawks and there's a clatter as something tumbles down the stairs. We both turn to see the white object spin as it reaches the bottom. "Ah, thank you Malak." He grabs the mask and makes to put it on. "On that note, I'm out of time. Until we meet again." He eyes me with a roguish grin then spins in a flurry of cape, and he's out the door into the night.

I stare at the door. What. The. Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I had some issues uploading chapter one, so hopefully I fixed them in chapter two. Chapters won't be up this fast later, I'm a drabble type of writer, so I have scenes written in absolutely no chronological order. I've been making myself write the scenes in between drabbles so I can get a few posted and see if anyone likes it.

Chapter Two

The pumpkin bread is a bit stale, but edible, and the tea is divine. If only I could turn off the sun and get rid of this headache, this morning might be salvageable. As it stands I just moan to myself as I pick at my bread and eye the paper that I wrote all over last night to prove I'm not crazy. Which in fact isn't helping me believe I'm not crazy. The page is riddled with my insane scribbles describing the night, never really leaving a coherent sentence. 'Go to palace, Countess sleep deprived and insane. Tarot deck. Cursing raven. Flying crystals. Painful stairs. Handsome burglar. Eye-patch. Don't trust Asra. Go to Barth. Name is on the poster."

I look at said poster, where I must have drawn an eye patch onto the man's face, and where I also seemed to have taken the liberty to draw a very curly mustache. Below the picture I circled the name "Julian Devorak" several times and drew arrows pointing to it.

So, last night wasn't just a crazy inebriated dream then. I really do need to go to the palace, to attempt to do what the Countess is requesting of me. I really did tackle a wanted criminal down my stairwell. Looking down at the bloody mess on my floor in my kitchenette, I see droplets leading over to the top of the stairs. I don't think I'll have time to clean that up, but it's not like I'm going to have customers anyway. The shop is in kind of a wreck, so even if I didn't have a prior engagement, I probably wouldn't open today so I could clean up. Asra's tarot deck is sitting on the table along with the papers, looking ominous and innocent at the same time. I tuck said deck into my side satchel and shove a large piece of pumpkin bread in my mouth. Guess it's time to go.

I open the shop door and looming across the street is a huge mass of a man doing his absolute best to be as small as can be. I smirk and lock the door behind me, double checking all the mechanisms latched correctly and carefully tracing the locking spell circles. I don't need a repeat of last night.

"Muriel," I greet the man, he gives me an acknowledging grunt. "Asra send you?" Another acknowledging grunt. I sigh. I look up his towering height, just barely able to see his dark green eyes under his hood. "Hungry? I'm on my way to the palace, but I can grab us a bite to eat."

He gives me a harried look and shakes his head. He holds his hand out to me, and I take the small vial from him. "For the hangover." He mumbles.

"Thanks," I smile. "Will you tell Asra something for me? Tell him he's an asshat."

The green eyes go wild and he sputters, and I can't help but laugh. "Wh-what? I'm not telling him that!"

"Sure you will," I pat his big arm, and begin to take my leave. He hesitantly follows. "Hm? Do you have a message too?"

"No… but Asra would want to know why you're going to the palace…" He looks down to the ground as we walk.

"Ugh, you two are like mother hens."

"...sorry."

I rub my temples. "S'okay. Tell him I had customers after hours last night, and I was summoned to the palace. If he wants to know more, tell him to get his vagrant ass back to Vesuvia to find out."

Muriel nods and stops following me. I pause as well, looking up at the man and I give him a genuine smile.

"Thanks for checking up on me Muriel, and for the tonic. Don't be such a stranger, you know you're always welcome. I'll be out soon, maybe after this whole palace thing is settled, and I'll feed the chickens."

His stormy eyes glimmer, and I can see he wants to tell me something. I wait patiently for him to decide to say it.

"Be careful… Asra said you'll be hitting a crossroads soon. Going to the palace could be the start of that journey. Be wary of the uninvited, of offers given when you need them most. Turn them away, or fall into his hand, like the rest of us…"

"Muriel… why are you being so cryptic? Why so ominous?" I take a step towards him, but he shies away.

He shakes his head, chains clinking beneath his coat. "Not my story to tell." He turns and walks down the opposite way down the street. I watch his hulking figure as it disappears around the corner and wait until I can't hear the chimes of his chains anymore before I turn and head towards the market.

The market is noisy and full of laughter and bartering. I ignore all of it and walk like a ghost through the throngs of early morning shoppers and merchants hawking their wares. Muriel's words left a sinking feeling in my gut, and I'm having a hard time processing his words with my aching head. I down the tonic, hoping for the best. I pass the bakery and wave to Selasi, turning his offer of fresh bread down with a smile.

A familiar chortle from above me draws my attention and I stare up at the raven perched on the overhang of the baker's shop. I glare at him, "Up to no good so early?" He caws and raises his wings, looking behind me. I turn to see what he's looking at and my blood runs cold. Damn it, if it isn't Mr. Wanted himself. Walking around in broad daylight, no mask or anything. What an idiot. He hasn't spotted me yet, and I risk a glance up at Malak. "What's the deal with you two?" I ask the bird, not expecting a reply. I watch as he browses the wares of the shops he walks past. He's awfully nonchalant for a criminal, and a wanted one at that. He looks different in the light of day, not nearly as menacing as the poster depicts him, and that wild shock of auburn hair. Wow.

Slowly he's making his way down the market to the bakery where I stand, and I'm in awe of how no one in the market seems to care at all that he's here. People mill about him, either not noticing him or sometimes even greeting him, and he smiles back with a slight nod. When he reaches only a couple stalls away, Malak gives a shriek, and it immediately gets his attention. A wild gray eye locks onto me, and I cross my arms and give him a look. He has just enough wherewithal to look at me with a sheepish grin before my vision is blocked by a wooden cart filled to the brim with bolts of fabric. When it passes, he's gone. I look back up to where Malak was perched and see that he's gone as well.

"Slippery bastards…" I mumble, but if no one in the market seems to care about him, then I suppose there's no reason to cause a scene.

I turn up the stairs on my way towards the palace and I hear another familiar laugh higher up on the steps. I see Saffron barking out a deep laugh, standing next to a small red headed girl who's blushing from head to toe. A pomegranate collides with my foot and pick it up. I ascend the stairs towards them and place the pomegranate into the red heads basket.

"Thank you," she says breathless, turning back to stare up at Saffron.

"Well, look who it is!" Saffron's deep voice bellows out and they clap and hand across my back, pulling me into a half hug. I hiss in pain, but try to endure the affection. "I was just heading over to your shop! I-whoa, what's with the look?"

"You're hurting me." I grunt. "Who's your friend?" I change the subject and smile at the redhead.

She smiles politely and extends her hand to Saffron. "My names Portia. I'm sorry about earlier," she waves her hand over the basket of pomegranates.

Saffron looks abashed, "Oh honey, no, I bumped into you! I'm just glad we caught them before they rolled into the street. I'm Saffron."

Portia turns to me hand outstretched, "Oh! Oh I know who you are!"

"You do?"

"You're Marion! You're the magician that the Countess said to be expecting right? You match her description."

"You know the Countess?"

"I'm milady's head servant."

"Oh! You're _that _Portia," Saffron exclaims, "you're pretty popular around the market. I've heard a lot about you."

"Really? Good things I hope." Portia blushes.

Saffron waves her off, "Don't sweat it honey, all good things. But-" they turn to me mischief gleaming in their brown eyes, "what's this about being a magician? And what's the _Countess _want with your dull ass?"

I give them a look. "Like you're so much more interesting. Besides, I _told _her last night that I wasn't a magician but she insisted, so off I go."

"I know a short cut to the palace if you want to come with me," Portia offers.

"Does it involve climbing an impossible amount of stairs?" I ask.

She laughs at me, "Yes."

"Ugh."

"Honey, you're not going anywhere until you explain what happened last night." Saffron put their hands on their hips.

"You missed a lot of excitement," I muse and give them a summary of my previous nights events.

"I don't believe you." Saffron scoffs.

"What? Why not? I have the bruises to prove it!" I pull the collar of my shirt down over my shoulder to show the bruising from my tackle/tumble down the stairs. Portia looks aghast.

Saffron eyes it, something screwing up in their face, but I can't tell what the expression is. "Right, sure, that's a good cover story for falling your drunk ass down the stairs. I _knew _I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Pfft, I can take care of myself."

"Whatever. Listen Portia, if it's within your capabilities will you keep an eye out for this klutz for me? Trouble always seems to find her." Saffron pleads.

Portia laughs, "I know exactly the type. I'll do what I can. But we really should be going, lots of stairs to climb."

"Ha! I don't envy you there."

I pout, but I wave my goodbye and follow Portia to the palace.

"Did you really encounter Dr. Devorak last night?" Portia asks, not the least bit winded by our climb.

"What, don't tell me you don't believe me either!" I lament between gasping breaths. My legs are going to be so sore tomorrow.

Her pale skin flushes a bright red. "No! It's not that. It's just… wasn't it scary? What was he like?" She becomes animated by her curiosity.

I take a moment to think back on the encounter. "Yes, I suppose the whole thing was scary, at least at first."

"At first?"

I laugh, "Yeah, would you believe me if I said by the end of it we were at least cordial, if not even somewhat friendly? I mean, somehow I even apologized for hitting him with a crystal."

"Really? Why didn't you tell your friend that, it might have helped ease their anger."

"You kidding me? I barely made it past tackling him down the stairs before Saffron dismissed me." I pout. "If I had embellished more they would have laughed in my face."

Portia gives me a hard look. "Somehow I doubt that, but I don't know them as well as you. Did you find out why he broke into your shop?"

"He said he wanted to talk to my master, Asra. He didn't say why. He did give me a warning about Asra though, after he chatted me up about winning the dart tournament."

Portia looks confused.

"I attended a dart tournament at the Rowdy Raven last night and won. The targets were Dr. Devorak's wanted posters. He claimed to have supplied them himself." I laugh at the memory.

Portia's confusion turns abruptly to anger then exasperation. I cock an eyebrow at her. She flushes but continues, not skipping a beat. "Why didn't you go after him when he left?

"Wha? What was I supposed to do? Pin him down and scream bloody murder? I wasn't exactly at the top of my game last night… Besides, he's still around, I saw him at the market right before I ran into you and Saffron."

"He was where?!" Her anger is back again.

"I swear by the Arcana! He was just milling about being chummy with merchants and the like. Ran off like a scaredy cat when he saw me though." I scratch my chin. "It was so weird, it was like no one at the market recognized him, or if they did they didn't care that he's a wanted man." I look over at the shorter girl and see that she had stopped her ascent and was staring at me like a fish out of water. "You alright?"

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "Yeah, it's just… never mind." She quickly catches back up to me. Anyway, so you're not a magician?"

"Not anymore than you are, unless _you're _a magician?"

"Oh, gosh no. But, do you think you can help milady?"

"Only one way to find out." I shrug.

She looks down and toys with the handle of the basket of pomegranates. "I hope you can, Marion. Milady could really use some good people on her side."

"Her side?" My eyebrows draw together.

"Would be best for her to explain."

"I see." We've made it to the top of the long stairway, a looming iron gate a small distance away. I look past it towards the white spires illuminated by the afternoon sun. I've never actually been this close to the palace before, I've never had a reason to venture this close. It's much bigger than I thought it would be, it looks like nothing more than a dollhouse from the shop.

I'm most definitely going to get lost in there.

I steel my nerve and follow Portia.

It seems I'm meant to stay for a period of time. Portia, after talking to a bundle of nerves in a feathered hat commonly known as the Chamberlain, showed me to a guest room and left me, saying to make myself comfortable. I look around the room at all the finery-the silk sheets, the porcelain vases, the impeccable wall coverings and window curtains. I can feel my limbs physically wanting to disappear into my torso, to hide from the delicate decor before I inevitably destroy it in some fashion. This, this is going to be an exhausting stay at the palace.

I flounder, walking about the room, not sure what's safe to touch, where I should sit. I finally decide to pull out a table chair, and sit at it, not daring to touch the finery on the table itself. I draw my limbs as close to myself as I can, and I wait, looking out the window at the beautiful garden some ten or so feet below. The hedge maze and sculpted shrubbery are amazing, towards the middle of the maze is a towering willow tree and what looks to be a marble fountain. Outside the hedges is an elaborately designed gazebo, I can just barely make out all of the cushions and finery within it. I'm even intimidated to go outside now.

There's a knock on my door and I startle, not knowing what to do. "Come in?" My voice sounds small and mousy.

Portia pokes her freckled face around the door and gives me a cat-like grin. "Getting comfortable?" I stare at her with wide wild eyes. She laughs and enters the room.

"I can't stay here." I say, swallowing my panic.

"Of course you can!" Portia walks over and opens the curtains the rest of the way. "Look at that view! It's the best view of the garden besides the veranda."

"Yes, the view is lovely." I mumble. "But that's not why I can't stay here." She gives me a curious look. "Look," I point to all of the beautiful, expensive-no-_priceless_ items, just strewn about the room without a care. "I'm a klutz, everything in this room is going to be broken."

Portia looks at me for a minute, before barking out a loud genuine laugh. "Would you like me to remove some of the breakables?"

I nod emphatically.

"Okay, I'll arrange it while you visit with milady. But don't worry if you do break something, milady isn't going to arrest you for it. We break things all the time." She pats my shoulder. "Anyway, she's waiting to see you in the parlor now, follow me."

I check to make sure I have Asra's tarot cards in my satchel and follow Portia out into the hall.

It's a short distance to the parlor, but I can feel every heartbeat pound in my chest as we make our way. Here's the moment of truth, the moment the Countess realizes I'm a fraud and can't help her. What will she do then? Send me away? Laugh it off, and ask me to send for Asra? Will she exile me from Vesuvia? I swallow a lump in my throat.

The parlor doors are swung open in front of me and I'm met with even more elegant finery, and an even more elegant woman. Countess Nadia Satrinava sits, with impeccable posture at an exquisite settee enjoying a small delicate cup of tea. Her flowing lavender dress spills out in front of her, her gorgeous violet ombre hair cascading down her back, she looks up from her cup of tea, red-violet eyes shining from the light of the window. She smiles warmly to me, gracefully setting her tea up down with not so much as a clink onto the saucer.

I freeze. Oh hell, I'm totally out of my element here. And _shit_ is she beautiful.

"Milady, I've brought the magician Marion." Portia says, elbowing me slightly to enter the room. I glance at her, and she's giving me another cat-like smile.

"Thank you Portia," the Countess says, "Please, have a seat Marion. Would you like some tea?" She gestures to an empty tea cup, gracefully moving to pick up the tea pot. She smirks at me as I continue to stare and not move. "Oh Marion, don't tell me now that you're sober, you've lost your nerve? What happened to the cheeky shopkeep I met last night?"

I swallow, "It's called liquid courage for a reason, my lady." I squeak out.

The Countess's laughter rings like bells in my ears, the sound worlds away from my bark of a belly laugh. "Please sit," she begins to pour me some tea, "you've nothing to fear from me. You are, after all, my guest."

I glance at Portia again, and she gives me an exaggerated roll of her eyes before firmly pushing me forward. "Don't worry, she's tougher than she looks, you can't break her." She whispers in my ear. I nod and as daintily as I can, I sit at the settee opposite of the Countess.

"Thank you, my lady." I murmur, attempting to pick up the tea cup. It clinks against the saucer as my hands shake. The Countess smirks, but doesn't say anything. I take a sip from the cup and it takes everything in me not to moan from the pleasure. This tea is… well, I said this morning's tea was divine, but _this_ tea, wow. This tea puts the tea Asra got me to shame. I can feel my muscles relax, and now I'm sitting in a puddle of contentment.

"Do you like the tea?" The Countess asks.

"I'm in heaven." I sigh. She looks pleased.

"Portia, the door, if you will?" Portia closes the door and guards it, leaving the three of us in privacy.

The Countess sets her manicured hands in her lap and she looks at me with purpose. "I want to thank you again, Marion, for coming to the palace. I apologize for my intrusion to your shop last night… but I'm afraid I'm at my wits end."

I swallow another sip of tea, then hastily set it down, waving her apology away with my hand. "It's no trouble, my lady. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more for you last night. I'm sorry for my… _state of inebriation_." I blush.

"One can hardly be faulted for enjoying one's evening." She says with humor in her eyes. "But alas, shall we get down to business? I don't mean to rush, but the uncertainty is plaguing me."

I wince. "Ah, about that…" I slowly pull out Asra's tarot deck. "I'm not sure how clear I was about my… inabilities…"

"Yes, you said you were not the house magician. I am not concerned, if you will, I would have you do a reading anyway." Her posture gives nothing away as to what she may be thinking.

I nod slowly, looking down at the deck. The cards feel warm in my hands, like they're ready to do the thing, I just wish I was _able_ to do the thing. However, I know how a reading goes. I've seen Asra do an uncountable number of readings, so I'll just follow the motions. A three card reading should do fine, a past, present, future. I swallow and begin shuffling the deck. I can feel the Countess's eyes on me, and I can't help the cold sweat on the back of my neck.

With shaking fingers I hold the deck out to the Countess, "Nadia Satrinava, will you cut the deck please?" She does so with graceful movements. I then separate the deck into three piles and set them on the table. I can feel my skin tingling, but I'm not sure if it's just from anxiety or the magic of the cards. I can hear a roaring in my ears, faint but getting stronger.

"Please pick a deck." She taps the one in the middle with a delicate pointer finger. I remove the other two decks. The roaring becomes louder, I swallow trying to pop my ears, but it does no good to relieve the sound. From the middle deck I lay out three cards onto the table.

"This spread is called a 3 card spread." I say lamely, the roaring in my ears coming even harder now. "It can help guide you through a situation, or help bring meaning to your life in a simple past, present, future setting." I look up at her, "As per what you said last night, this spread can also be interpreted as a situation, action, outcome reading." She nods her understanding. I hesitantly reach for the first card. I can feel a cold wind ruffle the hair on my head, I shiver involuntarily. The window must be open.

"Marion, I know my past, and I know my situation," The Countess says, I glance up at her, she's scowling down at the cards. "Is it unheard of to only request the action card?"

Another breeze, another shiver. "I… I don't know." I answer honestly. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to see what happens." I touch the middle card, and flip it-

My field of vision goes blank, wind roars in my ears, I shiver from the cold void around me. Slowly, in the distance, small specks of light pop into existence. The blackness churns into a dreamy starry blue. I glance around me, noticing I'm floating in the air, not falling, not rising, just floating. I want to say I'm afraid, but fear doesn't seize my heart. I've been somewhere like this before, I just don't remember when. I'm hit with some mild curiosity, how did I get here? Why am I here? What happened to the palace?

I hear my voice speak out, without my permission, echoing slightly in the void.

"_...The Magician._" It-me-I? say. I glance around to find the source.

"_How very appropriate._" I hear the Countess say. "_And what does the Magician hold for me?_"

There's a pause before my-voice-not-my-voice replies.

"_You have a plan._ _One that's important to you._"

"_And?_" The Countess's voice has a hitch to it now, one of surprise, or apprehension? "_Should I set it in motion?_"

Suddenly, I feel a hot wet wind gust towards me. I glance around and the sweet, dreamlike starry blue begins to turn purple then a deep red. The hot wind gusts violently, suffocating in its intensity, burning my skin.

"_Ahhhh…_" I hear a different, unfamiliar voice say. It's a nasally and imperious sound. "_What have we here?_" Despite the hot wind, I shiver. "_There, in your energy… ohh, it's him._"

There off in the distance, I can see a figure slowly taking shape. White, with glowing red eyes, horns as black as onyx. I can feel my stomach twist in panic.

"_Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place._" My voice continues.

"_Could you be…?_" The shape in the distance gets closer. My heart begins to beat wildly. "_Yes… yes!_" The shape becomes clear, showing me a horrifying white mangy goat-man, it sneers at me. "_The Thief!_" It lunges at me with long black claws. I dodge, suddenly on solid ground I and skitter away from it.

The red of the sky fades back into the parlor, leaving me disoriented. I look around and I can see the Countess, sitting on her settee, eyes wide and staring at me. And I can see me, eyes glowing white, hair floating around in an un-feelable wind. My stomach slams into my guts and I cringe at the panic. What the hell is going on? Why am I outside of my body?

The goat-man gasps, as he also sees that our surroundings have changed, he's staring at my body with a single minded purpose, hatred and glee dancing across his goat-face. He glances at me with a smirk and dashes for my body. I yelp and dash for it too, not sure what he wants with it, but damn sure he isn't going to get it.

-I'm hit with a force that slams into me with white hot pain. There's a crash and a thud, then the sound of liquid being poured onto carpet. I open my eyes with a wince, glancing up at a shocked Countess from my position across the room on the floor. I look over at the table and see the tea set thrown askew, cups shattered and tea pot overturned, tea spilling onto the expensive carpet.

"Marion!" I hear the Countess exclaim, but her voice is muffled. I can feel myself losing consciousness, losing control and drifting away.

I hope I didn't get tea on Asra's cards...

I look at the new bruises blossoming across my shoulders and chest from the reflection of the washroom mirror. You wouldn't think being thrown across the room from an unknown force would cause such damage. But then again, who ever expects being thrown across a room by an unknown force? How often does that even happen?

I frown. Magic. Yay.

I splash some water on my face and walk out of the washroom while drying it. When I look up there's a mass of red hair walking about my room and I jump almost out of my slippers. "Portia!" I squeak, then realize I'm half naked from my examination in the washroom. I hold the towel over my chest and fight back the blush.

Portia laughs while she fluffs the pillows on my bed, reorganizing them from my "nap" I took after the events in the parlor. "I'm glad to see you're awake, we were getting worried, it's almost dinner time." She gestures to a folded pile of clothes sitting at the head of the bed. "Milady picked an outfit out for you to wear to dinner, if you'd like to wear it. She feels awful about the incident in the parlor. I'll take your clothes to be laundered while you eat." She spins around and plops down in the bed eyes bright with curiosity. "_Now_," she says with excitement, "that was amazing! I thought you said you weren't a magician? Your eyes were _glowing_! So cool."

I blanch at the memory, "Still not a magician." I mumble and hold up what I think is the shirt to the outfit. "How do you wear this?"

"I'll help you." She begins to deftly untangle the outfit and help me into it. "So, how did you do that then?"

I follow her wordless directions to clothe me and reply, "I don't know, I was… I was seeing it all from outside of my body. Does that make sense?"

Portia looks up at me from my back. "No."

I sigh. "Well, that's what happened. Like the cards or something possessed me and threw me out of my body. The words I spoke weren't mine."

She gives a concerned look, "Is that a normal thing when giving a reading?"

I laugh sardonically, "No, that's not normal. Asra says the Arcana talk _to _him, not _through _him, and his eyes certainly don't _glow._"

Portia tightens something on the outfit and moves back to my front. "So, then was it that something that possessed you that sent you across the room? I was figuring it might have been the strength of the magic or something mystical like that."

I shake my head. "No that was most likely the goat-man-thing."

Now it's her turn to blanche. "Then it's real? You encountered it?"

My eyes widen, "You mean others have seen it too?"

She sits back down on the bed and I follow. "Some of the staff… they say there's a white goat spectre that haunts the 'Menagerie Gallery' in the Count's old wing. I've never seen it myself. I always thought it was an excuse to shirk duties. 'Ooohhh the Gallery Ghost got me!'" She imitates a fellow servant. "'I didn't mean to be gone so long~ he wouldn't let me go~' Stuff like that." She gives me an owlish look. "But to think there might _actually _be a ghost…"

I shrug, "It might not be a ghost. I encountered him in a sort of in-between realm. I've read some about it in Asra's magic tomes. Really powerful magicians can go there, make themselves a 'gate', like a safe place. Even some people who have a strong affinity with an Arcana can visit an Arcana's realm by going to the in-between." I scratch my neck in thought. "Maybe the goat-man is a magician? Can't be an Arcana, he would have eaten me alive. Or maybe he was also forced from his body, and is now stuck in the in-between?"

Portia swallows. "So… not alive, but not dead?"

"Maybe?" I shrug again.

"...will you be forced from your body again? Could you end up like it?" Portia whispers in shock.

I shiver. "Let's hope not." I stand, "Help me get the rest of this on? I'm sure the Countess has the same questions for me."

"Of course."

Portia wasn't kidding when she said it was almost dinner time. My stomach is roiling on itself, echoing down the hallway as we head to the dining hall. She grins at me as she leads the way, and all I can do is blush and follow.

We stop in front of a beautifully carved mahogany door, when she opens it I'm assaulted with delicious scents of exotic dishes and my mouth waters. The dining hall is a rich red room, accented with white and gold, the table itself covered in a white tablecloth most likely of the finest material, with golden painted chairs and golden candle holders. Even the dishes had a golden hue.

To be blunt, it's very gaudy and boujee, and not at all my kind of scene. But the food smells divine, and I suppose I can handle trying to figure out which is the salad fork and which the soup spoon in order to take part in a fine meal like this.

Portia leads me to a chair towards the far end of the room, sitting to the right of the head of the table. I take my seat, and glance about the table, then I make the mistake of looking up at the painting on the wall. Immediately all hunger subsides and I can feel a chill run down my spine.

There in the center of a very colorful painting, is a white goat with red eyes. He sits in the middle of a table laden with food, surrounded by other figures with animal characteristics. Almost like the goat is providing for the other animals, and they stare at him with adoring eyes. The goats head is surrounded by rays of gold, further accenting that he is the main focus of the painting. I try to swallow but my mouth is dry.

"Thank you for joining me for dinner, Marion." The Countess's voice purrs next to me, and I jump in my chair slightly. I look over to see her taking her seat at the head of the table. "I'm delighted to see you are unharmed after today's ordeal. I'm terribly sorry I put you through that."

I smile at her, "You did nothing wrong, my lady. I just hope you got the answer you were seeking." My eyes unwillingly slide back to the painting.

"I believe I did receive the answer… Do you like the painting?"

I'm startled again and rip my eyes away to look back at her, her face amused and curious.

"Do I like the… no. No, I'm afraid I don't like the painting." I blush slightly.

Her bell of a laugh catches me off guard. I must be at the end of my rope tonight, everything is making me jittery.

"So honest! Dear Marion, that is a wonderful trait to have. I must confess, I don't like it either." She gives the painting a quick look over. "It was one of my husband's favorites, so mayhap I keep it for sentiment." How she could make a shrug look graceful, I don't know, but there it is.

Servants come around and start filling our plates with the meal before us. I have no idea what most of these dishes are, and I had every intention to try them all, but I peek over at the painting again and my appetite recoils further from my grasp.

It's too close to what the goat-man looked like. It's as if it could be what he was before getting trapped in the in-between realm and becoming mangy and gross. It's very unsettling.

"The goat in the middle is supposed to represent Count Lucio. Or at least I believe that was the intention." She gives the painting a haughty look. I'm startled once again for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, soaking in that information. Count Lucio… the goat-man? Surely not.

"It's supposed to represent him providing for the people." She continues. "Though, all anyone can claim he provided was impeccable entertainment." She takes a delicate bite of her meal. I watch as she chews, a pensive look on her face. "The people remember his Masquerades with fondness, always looking forward to them every year. Did you ever attend one?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I'm cut short by the revelation that I don't remember if I have or not. I remain silent.

"We held it for my husband's birthday celebrations, all of Vesuvia was invited to attend." She gives her food a bitter look. "The Masquerades stopped after my husband's death, the event marred with bitterness… after Count Lucio was murdered at the last Masquerade."

I remember hearing about it, mainly rumors and the like. No one outside of the Court truly knew what happened that night. Most stories end the same way though, with the Count retiring to his room, which was later engulfed in flames. They supposedly caught the arsonist on the spot, but he managed to escape custody before the execution.

"Such a vicious injustice done upon this house." The Countess continues. "That Marion, is why I asked you here. Why I asked for a reading. Today, I was given the answer I sought through the Arcana."

I look at her wide eyed. "My lady… I don't follow. I'm glad I was able to give you your answer, but how else could I possibly be of use?"

"I intend to hold the Masquerade once more." She says, the gravity of it hitting the room, all attention from her servants directed to her. I glance around at them, the announcement seems to be of importance to them.

"That's… um, nice? I guess? Still not following how I can help." I pick at my nails underneath the table for something to take my antsiness onto.

"I need your help tying up a loose end. The Count's murderer still roams free. Thus far he has been elusive, but I've seen it in my dreams, that you would be the one to find him."

"Me? I'm not a detective, I'm a shopkeep!" I stare at her like she's grown a second head.

"It has to be you. After your reading this afternoon, I'm more than convinced that you will prevail." She looks so sure…

"Okay… who am I looking for, then?" I ask defeated.

"Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband's former physician." She spits his name out like it tastes vile on her tongue. I suppose it would, to her.

The blood drains from my face and I stop fidgeting. So, that's what he is wanted for then. It didn't say on the posters. I think back to my hazy recollection of my encounter with him. I suppose her dreams are already correct… technically I've already found him.

"Doctor Devorak confessed to the crime three years ago. All that is left is for justice to be served. It _must _be served, in order for the city to heal, to move on. I intend for the deed to be done to commence the festivities of the next Masquerade." She suddenly looks tired, but resolved.

"The… deed, my lady?" I ask, voice thick.

"Execution by hanging."

My breath gets caught in my throat, and behind me something shatters on the floor.

"Portia?" The Countess says in alarm. I look behind me to see Portia standing stock still, horror masked onto her pale face.

"F-f-forgive me milady. Slippery fingers." She squeaks, bending down to start picking up the ruined dessert. Servants dash in around her to help.

"You are forgiven." The Countess says without a second thought.

I watch the servants clean up the mess, then turn back to the Countess. I'm sure my eyes are as wide as the tea saucers that were broken this afternoon. She watches me with interest.

"That's, um, a bit morbid, isn't it?" My voice is shaky. I can't imagine the man I met last night being a murderer, let alone seeing him hang. And _surely_ not as the beginning of what is supposed to be fun and entertainment.

She sighs and closes her eyes in thought. "It's not something that I relish doing. However I have a responsibility to this city and its people. As it's Countess, I must see this through."

All I can do is nod. What do you say to that? Can you tell a Countess no? It's admirable that she feels this way towards her people, but… something doesn't feel right. I have many friends who are criminals in some fashion, it feels like a betrayal to be the one to catch and condemn someone to hang.

The Countess nods back to me and stands, I follow suit.

"Portia." She calls out. There's no answer. "...Portia." She says again.

"Yes milady!" Portia squeaks, and rounds the corner of the hall, I can still see the remnants of the chocolate of the dessert on her fingers.

"Will you escort Marion back to her room?"

"Right away, milady."

"Marion, we can discuss what information I can offer you tomorrow after you've had more rest. Please feel free to ask for anything you need while you stay here at the palace."

"Of course, thank you my lady." I say, then I turn to Portia who escorts me from the dining hall.

Portia is quiet as we navigate back to my room. She seems shaken, but also standoffish. I decide to leave her be. We reach my room and she ushers me inside.

"Have a good night, Marion. I'll wake you with breakfast in the morning." She turns to leave.

"Good night, Portia." I give a small smile, she takes a moment, but she returns it, then scurries off.

Closing the door, I survey my guest room, and I'm relieved to see that Portia made good on her word. Most of the expensive and unnecessary breakables have been removed. Others replaced with a more sturdy substitute. I smile, Portia is good people.

I ready myself for bed, and I sit on the edge, looking out towards the dark window. Everything about this whole situation feels… off. I'm not sure I have much control over any of it. What little there is for me to control, I need to seize it and make it right.

I just don't know what that is.

I lie down in the bed and then my stomach rumbles. I groan, it's going to be a long night with an empty stomach.


End file.
